


Boldly Go

by ChristineP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, American!Harry, Humor, M/M, Non-magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineP/pseuds/ChristineP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was sure the scowl would have had more force to it if the blond wasn’t dressed in a catsuit reminiscent of Seven of Nine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boldly Go

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

'Boldly Go'  
by: Christine

 

Harry bounced with excitement as he wandered from booth to booth, gazing at all the Trek merchandise the vendors had for sale. He’d foregone dressing up as a Klingon warrior since this was his first convention and he didn’t feel comfortable doing so for the first time. As he continued looking around, he just about wet himself in glee as he saw a notice board announcing that Marina Sirtis, Patrick Stewart, and John DeLancie would be appearing to sign autographs and answer questions. Each actor was scheduled to make an appearance each day, so he had three glorious fun-filled days to meet and greet them.

Since Marina Sirtis wasn’t scheduled to be in the conference room until later that afternoon, Harry walked to the nearest food vendor: might as well get a snack while he waited. Without looking where he was going, he accidentally backed into someone behind him, stepping on the person’s feet.

“Oi! Watch it, four-eyes!”

Harry turned around, the apology he’d been about to utter dying on his lips as he took in the scowling blond man. Harry was sure the scowl would have had more force to it if the blond wasn’t dressed in a catsuit reminiscent of Seven of Nine. He blinked a few times making sure what he saw in front of him wasn’t his eyes playing tricks on him. Harry gave the man a thorough once over from head to toe and back again. Yes, he definitely dressed the part, including fake breasts—at least he _hoped_ they were fake—on his chest.

“What are you staring at?”

Harry blinked. “Uh … nuh-nothing, I was just admiring your costume.”

The blond man gave Harry a scathing look. “It wasn’t really my idea. A friend of mine bet me I wouldn’t have the bollocks to go out in public dressed like this.” He sighed. “I never was one to pass up a challenge.” He crossed his arms. “What are you supposed to be? Wait, don’t tell me: a complete and utter nerd who probably spends every last bit of his paycheck on the crap they sell. Am I right?”

Harry frowned. “If you’re not a Trekkie, why come to the convention?”

“What I do in my spare time is no concern of yours,” the blond snapped.

“Right.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry about stepping on your feet. How ‘bout I make it up to you? Hungry? Lunch is on me.”

The man sighed. “Why not? Maybe if I’m with someone, even someone like you, these losers will quit trying to chat me up.”

Harry knew he should be offended by the blond’s attitude, but he was too hungry to care at the moment. Shrugging, he turned back around as he was called forward to place his order. As soon as it was filled, he grabbed the food and drinks and led the other man to a fairly quiet corner.

“So,” Harry began, swallowing, “where are you from? Obviously you’re not American.”

“I’m from London.”

“What are you doing here in the States if you have no love for fandom conventions?”

“I flew out here to visit a friend of mine—”

“The one who bet you to dress like a girl?”

“Yes. She’s really into this type of scene, and she asked me to come. You might have seen her wandering around; she’s got on green body paint.”

Harry paused as he thought back to some of the cosplayers he’d seen so far. “I don’t think so. I’ve mostly seen people dressed as Klingons or Borg.”

“I’m Draco by the way. And you are?”

Harry slurped noisily from his paper cup and swallowed. “Oh, um, I’m Harry.”

“Despite you trotting on my feet, it was nice meeting you, but I’m afraid I have to go. It’s been three hours since I walked in here wearing this costume, so my end of the bet has been fulfilled.”

Harry watched as Draco stood up from his chair. “Do you think I’ll see you again?”

Draco’s expression softened. “I don’t know.” He began to walk away, sending a wave to Harry before getting lost in the crowd of convention goers.

 _I finally find the perfect person, more or less, and they disappear from my life. Typical,_ Harry thought forlornly. He looked down at his watch, seeing the time, and jumped up, nearly spilling his Coke down his front. “Ooh, I’d better hurry to the conference room. It’s almost time.”

***

The next day Harry was once more in the convention show room. This time he’d stopped at a booth that sold autographed photos from actors that weren’t able to attend. He sighed sadly when one autographed photo he was looking at, an 8 x 11 glossy of LeVar Burton, unfortunately cost more than he could afford. It would have been perfect for his collection.

“I could buy that for you.”

Harry turned at the whispered words into his ear, keeping himself from smiling widely at Draco. “You look different without the catsuit.”

“Really. How so?”

“Yeah, you actually look better,” Harry replied with a smile. “Anyway, I appreciate the gesture, but it’s not necessary. I’ll just wait until next time I come to one of these things and buy it then.”

“Suit yourself.” Draco glanced across the table then looked back up at Harry. “Fancy a bite to eat? I’m famished and you’re loads more entertaining to look at than this lot,” he said, indicating the milling crowd.

Harry couldn’t help the grin that plastered itself to his face. “Sounds good. What did you have in mind? I think I saw a hotdog vendor not too far from here.”

“Tempting, but I was thinking of that Thai restaurant just down the block from here.”

“Uh, sure,” Harry replied, surprised. He’d heard nothing but good reviews about that place, and he’d thought about trying it out. That was until he found out he could only afford to eat there by selling a body part or two. Although, he was quite surprised that Draco wanted to dine with him. _Wonder what he wants._

They quickly made their way through the sweaty throng of people towards the entrance, making small talk as they walked down the street towards the restaurant. Harry was shocked when the maître d’ took one look at Draco, and hurriedly ushered them to a table, much to the grumblings of the other patrons waiting to be seated.

Harry looked around at the beautiful patrons in couture clothing in awe. He felt conspicuously underdressed as he took in the environment and business attire of the other diners. He was brought out of his fretting by Draco. “Huh?”

“I asked you what was wrong. You look like someone stole your favorite phaser.”

Harry snickered softly. “I just feel a little overwhelmed … and not like I fit in very well. Erm, Draco, how is it we’re allowed to just waltz in, especially dressed as I am, and no one looked twice?” Harry looked down at his favorite t-shirt, the one with a large picture of the Deep Space Nine space station and the opened wormhole in the background. At least Draco blended in with his polo shirt and khakis. “I sort of stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Well … my father is sort of an important person—”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He’s one of the ambassadors from France,” Draco replied.

Harry cleared his throat and took a drink from his water glass. “I’m not much into politics, I’m sorry to say. When I do have time from work to watch T.V., it’s usually Trek episodes.”

Draco laughed. “I’m not surprised. What do you do at work?”

“I’m a pharmacy technician.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Harry nodded. “It is. I mostly do doctor calls, deal with the customers, and assist the pharmacist among other things, of course.”

They were interrupted by the waiter, who stood patiently to take down their orders. “Order anything you like,” the blond commented, producing a smile from Harry.

“All right.”

They spent the next few hours eating and chatting about nothing in particular. Harry told Draco about his job and his love for all things created by Gene Roddenberry. Harry was quite pleased: he was sharing a good meal with an attractive guy, who was quite intelligent.

After their impromptu dinner, they paid and made their way out of the restaurant. Harry couldn’t believe how much time had passed until they’d walked outside and the sun had already set as they walked back to the hotel. Harry had missed seeing that day’s featured guest, but he knew Patrick Stewart made many convention appearances, so he wasn’t too disappointed.

Harry enjoyed spending time with Draco, especially when the other man walked him right up to his hotel room door. Harry wasn’t sure what to expect, since the entire evening had a strange sort of date feel to it. He was correct in his assumption when Draco suddenly turned him from his door, and pressed a light kiss to his lips.

Draco pulled back, looking unsure. “Erm, I’m sorry if I was too forward, I just thought—”

Harry didn’t give Draco a chance to finish as he grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him forward and smashed their lips together, eliciting a moan from Draco. Harry opened his mouth to Draco’s inquiring tongue, relishing in the feel of the other man’s lips and body against his own. After a minute, Harry pulled away. “Would you like to come in?”

He thought Draco might decline his offer since he took longer than necessary to answer. But he smiled when he replied, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Harry smiled brightly, unlocking his door, dragging Draco inside.

***

Harry woke up both sore and alone in his bed. He figured Draco probably left while he’d been asleep, not wanting to wake him up. Harry frowned, looking down at the state of the bed; they’d shared a wild night together, doing things Harry had only ever dreamed about doing before. He was quite surprised when the bathroom door opened and Draco walked out, toweling his hair dry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’d thought you left,” Harry confessed, looking down at the bed.

Draco sighed and tossed the damp towel towards one of the chairs. “Harry, while we may not know each other very well, I actually like you. I’m not usually one for one-night stands.”

“But you’ll be going back to London soon, won’t you?”

“Eventually,” Draco replied. “But I’m twenty-five: I don’t have a set timeframe I have to be back. As long as I call my parents once a week, letting them know I’m alive and not in any trouble, they don’t care how long I stay.”

Harry picked at the sheets. “So you wouldn’t mind dating or something?”

Draco smiled and shook his head. “No, I can’t say that I’d mind. Even with your obsession over science fiction characters.”

Harry laughed. “So,” he began, looking shyly at the other man, “want to come with me when I get my poster signed by the actor who plays Q?”

“Sure, why not? I hear he’s a handsome fellow even at sixty.”

Harry rolled his eyes, laughing as he hit Draco with a pillow.

End.


End file.
